


The Hollow and The Depth

by 2shytheshippy



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-02-27 17:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18743254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2shytheshippy/pseuds/2shytheshippy
Summary: Spoilers for 8x04. After her journey to King's Landing with the Hound, Arya goes on a different journey to find herself. It leads her to a certain Lord she'd been avoiding since that faithful night.





	1. Where You Want to Be

**Author's Note:**

> Just trying something different.

Arya didn’t expect to see him again or maybe she didn’t want to.

Gendry Baratheon.

She remembered when he was a bastard with no last name.

She remembered when she offered to be his family.

She remembered him getting down on one knee and proposing to her after he told her that he was legitimized and had Storm’s End.

It felt like forever ago just like everything else. Meeting him. Him being taken away from her. Training with the Faceless Men. Returning to her family. Defeating the Night King. Leaving for King’s Landing. Granting the Hound mercy. And, yet, these things felt as fresh as if they happened yesterday as well. Arya couldn’t explain it nor did she want to think about it.

Life felt weird to live when you didn’t expect to live another day.

And for a long time, it did feel weird. She life Winterfell for King’s Landing expecting to die. Although she told herself live or die, she was going to end Cersei’s life, Arya always thought that she’d die as she took Cersei down.

But, she hadn’t been the one who killed Cersei, she lived, and life felt strange ever since.

People thought she was strange and Arya supposed she was.

She didn’t know how to live after becoming acquainted with the dead and Death himself for so long. Even while she was back at Winterfell, before the Night King, people a regular person again felt like wearing a second skin—one that wasn’t her own. 

They were all different people now: her, Sansa, Jon, and Bran.

Trying to become things they weren’t and running away from who they were.

Death gave Arya permission to live and she was unsure of what that meant.

After King’s Landing, she traveled the road a bit before returning to Winterfell—a shell of both Arya Underfoot and No one.

She was different and didn’t know what that meant.

Arya helped Sansa plan the rebuilding of Winterfell. She admired her older sister’s eye for detail as they discussed the key Houses who cold provide the necessary supplies. Sansa sent ravens to the more agreeable Houses and Arya visited the more stubborn House. As usual, her reputation proceeded her and the Night King Slayer got what she wanted.

But, she avoided Storm’s End and was mysteriously missing when he visited a while back.

Arya watched as Gendry rode in on his horse. He looked bigger—more muscular—his hair was a bit thicker and so was his goatee. He eyes were still startlingly blue as House Baratheon colors surrounded him.

He rode like a lord.

Winterfell was in the process of being rebuilt and Arya felt restless. Despite her relationship getting better with Sansa, Arya couldn’t fully relax around her older sister. She couldn’t be herself even though she wasn’t of who that was at the moment.

But, she knew who she missed: Jon.

This was her third time returning to King’s Landing and, ironically, she was ecstatic about it. 

The first time had been against her will and the second was to murder the Queen. But, now she wanted to spend time with her brother—she didn’t give a damn that her parents didn’t make him, he was her brother—and, even if it didn’t make everything better, she felt normal for once.

Parts of the new Arya baffled Jon, but he loved her all the same. He didn’t always understand her, but he tried, he really tried. Despite their strained relationship in the beginning, Dany welcomed Arya’s arrival. She was polite and gracious and she held their son in her arms. Eddard was their pride and joy and Arya was happy for them. 

Unlike her, Sansa wasn’t welcomed in King’s Landing. It was a well known secret that Dany wanted Sansa dead, but Jon convinced Dany to spare her. He didn’t want anymore bloodshed. If this was Arya pre her second trip to King’s Landing, she wouldn’t understand how Jon was able to marry the woman who wanted his sister dead (and also his aunt). But, post her second trip to King’s Landing, Arya didn’t delve too deeply into it. They all had made their choices before they arrived at the forks in the road.

Was the North’s independence worth more bloodshed?

More death?

Games only got people so far. It led to her father’s death, her mother’s death, her brothers deaths, and Sansa going through unspeakable violence. Games never solved anything, it just got people where they wanted temporarily before other people replaced them.

Unknowingly, it was her third arrival that led to her seeing Gendry for the first time in years.

She could’ve avoided him if she’d wanted to, but Arya was tired of playing those games. She could avoid him forever, but she didn’t want to.

Gendry made eye contact with Arya as if he knew she was there and nodded.

Arya held his gaze before turning away.

Although his trip wasn’t long, he was staying for a few days. Arya expected to bump into Gendry, despite King’s Landing being a huge sister. But, she only saw glimpses of him as he entered and exited meetings and tended to whatever business he had up in King’s Landing.

Perhaps, she expected him to visit her.

He didn’t.

Curiously, she watched him. Watched as Gendry carried himself like a lord; consult Davos, his trusted advisor; and largely keep to his people and himself.

Occasionally, they exchanged glances, but nothing more.

Gendry Arya’s pre second King’s Landing visit would’ve come to her as soon as he saw her. Lord Baratheon keeps his distance and leaves her be.

Arya goes to him.

“Lord Baratheon,” Arya greets her old time friend and one time lover.

Warmly, Gendry smiles at her, but despite his best efforts, Arya can see subtle signs of strain.

“Arya.” His voice is as soft as his eyes and his hands are clasped in front of him.

Taking him in, Arya says, “It’s been a long time.”

“It has.” Arya was annoyed with him. Annoyed with his politeness. Annoyed short answers.

Instead, she kept her cool. “I see you’ve become a great lord like I knew you would.”

“Well, you always did know best.” For some inexplicable reason, Arya was taken back by his response. “I expected the Night King Slayer to be out in the woods fighting rapers and murderers not in the castle dressed like a proper…”

Gendry frowned.

“A proper what,” Arya said, wanting him to finish. 

Ever since she returned home and to Jon, Arya occasionally dressed up like a lady. Sometimes it reminded her of a simpler time before King’s Landing. 

Before everything.

Gendry crinkled his brows and sighed. “It was nice seeing you, Arya. Really. I need to go speak to Davos.”

He walked off so fast Arya wondered if he was actually running.

There was an irony there if she thought about it.

She didn’t.

The second time Arya encountered Gendry was in the training yard. Due to the Battle of Winterfell and the one Dany waged against King’s Landing, Gendry was known for his skills with a Warhammer. Despite this, he wanted to train with a sword as well.

Because she was the She-Wolf of the North and the Night King Slayer, the Master of Arms allowed her to take over Gendry’s training.

“What are you doing?” Sweat poured down his face as his sword hog loosely to his side.

Arya smiled. “You wanted to train with the best, right?”

Looking as if he wanted to say something, Gendry bit his tongue.

Although Arya would never admit it out loud, she was going unnecessarily hard at Gendry. She pushed and prodded and made him learn quicker than he ever expected. She frustrated and annoyed him.

His sword was on the ground and hers was at his throat.

Gendry wasn’t embarrassed; he was tired and defeated.

Exhausted, he stared at Arya and said, “You win.”

Arya wasn’t sure what Gendry was referring to, but he walked away again. This time he didn’t run away.

“How do you know Gendry?” Jon looked at his sister as they walked alongside one another one the grounds. Arya quirked an eyebrow. “There’s a lot of things I don’t know, but I do know you’ve taken an interest in him. That you watch him a lot and not because he poses a danger to me, Dany, or Ned. I also know that you’ve spoken with him on two separate occasions.”

Arya smiled as she clasped her hands behind her back. “He proposed to me,” Arya admitted. “After I defeated the Night King…after Dany legitimatized him.”

Shocked, Jon stopped and looked at his sister. He opened his mouth, and then closed it. “What led him to do such a thing?”

“He finally felt he was good enough.” But, little did Gendry know, he’d always been good enough. She wished she’d told him that. She wished she’d done a lot of things different and that she could do so now.

“Arya, I’m confused,” Jon stated. “I don’t doubt that you’ve had proposals, but from what I know of Gendry he’d nev—“

“We’d had sex the night before,” she explained, ignoring Jon’s surprised look. “I knew him from before you returned to Winterfell with Dany and her dragons. Before the Faceless men. And he knew me.” She looked at her brother. “After dad got…killed, Yoren disguised me as a boy to fit in with the Night Watch recruits…”

“To deliver you to the wall and me,” Jon pieced together.

“Yes,” Arya confirmed. “Gendry wasn’t just my friend back then, he’d been my family.”

“You loved him,” Jon concluded.

Arya thinly smiled. “I love him.”

“Why’d you say no?”

A thousand answers rested on the tip on Arya’s tongue. Quietly, she said, “I wasn’t alive then, I am now.”

Frowning, Jon opened his mouth, and then closed it. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Gendry wasn’t at dinner.

He hadn’t been for the past few days. Arya suspected he was avoiding her.

Only Gendry hit metal to make it sing in aways Arya never heard before. She knew it was him before she even entered the forge. Although he was a lord, Ary knew he would’ve been fine making a comfortable living as a blacksmith.

“You’re avoiding me,” she pointed out.

Gendry stopped pounding and looked at Arya. “You’re not avoiding me.”

“Obviously.” Arya stood beside Gendry as she admired his work (and him).

Huffing, Gendry looked down at her. “Arya, what do you want?”

“I…” Arya searched for the words. The words that have been escaping her since the night she laid with him. “I—“

As Gendry turned to leave, Arya grabbed him.

“Stop walking away from me,” Arya demanded. “That’s what I want.”

“I’m only walking away because that’s what you want—that’s what you did,” he accused. “We laid together, I told you I loved you, I—I—I wanted to marry you and YOU walked away.”

“Gendry-“

“Seven hells, Arya, I know you didn’t want to be a lady,” he admitted. “But, I was fucking drunk and, fuck, I thought we could finally be together rather than me being some bastard and you being a—you being you. If you wanted me to give up my fucking titles, I would’ve. But, you made it plain that you didn’t even want me.”

Wide eyed, Arya said, “That’s not true.”

“But, it is, isn’t it,” he argued. “You knew I would’ve given them up for you. You knew I would follow you to the ends of the earth, but you told me to keep my title and went back to shooting your fucking arrows as if you didn’t break my heart into a million pieces.”

“Gendry, that’s not true,” Arya swore. “I was trying to protect you, you idiot.”

“Protect me from what, Arya?” Gendry looked pointedly at the long woman. “I survived the Gold Cloaks, the Red Woman, and the fucking army of the dead—what else did I knew protecting from?”

Arya blinked back tears. “Me dying.”

“Arya…” Gendry swallowed. “I felt like I died when you left; I would’ve rather died at your side than not be with you at all. And if you’d given me that option, I would’ve taken it.”

Tears fell. “I…I didn’t want you to die.”

“Well, you sure as hell fooled me,” he said bitterly. “I waited. I waited for you, Arya. I waited for you to come back to Winterfell and I came back there to see you. To talk to you, but you weren’t there. And that’s when I realized that you are always wherever you want to be. And if you wanted to see me, to talk to me, you would’ve. So, I stopped coming around and I stayed away. I don’t know what you want from me now and I’m not even sure you know what you want, but when you figure it out, tell me.”

Gendry stormed out of the forge and Arya felt his anger rain down on her.


	2. Sleeping Patterns

She used to think he lost his sense of humor.

But, then Arya saw Gendry laugh and smile with other people.

The realization hurt her more than she cared to admit. Gendry used to reserve his smiles and laughter for her, now he was measured and brooding around her. As irrational as it was, Arya was jealous of those who received what used to be solely for her. She missed their easiness and their camaraderie. She missed his touch.

Although Arya knew she shouldn’t want more, she did; she didn’t know what she wanted from Gendry, but she knew she wanted him.

“You really do love him,” Jon remarked as he stood next to Arya. They watched as Gendry interacted with commoners. He was serious and attentive. Unexpectedly, he smiled before he cracked a joke that many of the men and some ladies laughed at.

He really was a great lord.

“Why would I lie about that?” Arya’s gaze lingered on Gendry for a beat before she faced Jon.

“I didn’t think you did,” he spoke in a low, but firm voice. “It just…never seemed as if had any use for that type of love. Even now.”

“I thought I didn’t,” Arya muttered. “But, I’m not who I used to be—I haven’t been for a while.”

Gendry finally joined them for dinner.

His men were boisterous and their energy and laughter was infectious. Although Gendry was the most reserved among them, he seemed to relish at their energy. His men loved him. Arya knew that for a fact. Their support of him wasn’t for show. And Gendry was appreciative of their efforts and devotion.

Arya was both impressed and proud of his success, despite believing in his ability to govern.

Gendry’s success didn’t come out of no where; Ser Davos helped Gendry acclimate as best as he could to his new life, which included explaining the customs and expectations. See Davos laid out Gendry’s responsibilities and guided him to the best of his ability. Gendry had his failings as a lord, but he never made the same mistake twice. He listened. He was a man of and for the people.

Who would’ve thought that a bastard from Flea’s Bottom would grow to become a respected Lord?

Although Gendry wasn’t born with a name, he sure as hell earned; although he was given him name, he’d won over he admiration and respect of his people.

Gendry bid his dinner time companions farewell and promptly exited the Great Hall.

Arya followed him out.

Before, Arya used to be privy what was one Gendry’s mind and where he was going. Before, he would’ve looked at her and invited her along. Before, she would’ve went.

Now, she wasn’t sure if she was directionless or scared. Now, she was sure if before mattered. Only now mattered. Only now.

In a darkened corner of the castle, she kissed Gendry passionately and deeply.

He let her.

Gendry closed his eyes and grabbed her forearms. He held her at arms length and sighed.

“Arya…” Gendry closed his eyes even tighter before they snapped open. “If you’re looking to be fucked, I hear Ser Podrick is around. I hear his cock is so magical that whores refuse to accept his money.”

Arya quirked an eyebrow.

Little did Gendry know, she almost did fuck Podrick.

Pushing himself off of the wall, Gendry walked to his room. He hadn’t rushed off, so Arya assumed he wasn’t trying to get away from her. But, he also hadn’t walked at a pace that accounted for her shorter legs, which meant he was indifferent to if she followed him or not.

Her stomach tightened at the observation.

“You still haven’t figured out what you wanted,” he said, not turning to face her.

No. She hadn’t. “What do you want?”

“That hasn’t mattered in a long time.” Gendry sounded defeated. Perhaps, Arya thought, the reason she hadn’t wanted to see him is because she didn’t want to face the aftermath of her actions.

When they entered the bedchamber, Gendry faced Arya and assessed her for a moment. He sighed, and then walked over and closed the door.

Arya quirked an eyebrow when Gendry began unfastening his clothes. Stealing a glance at her, Gendry huffed. “I’m not fucking you,” he remarked.

“That’s fine.”

After he was down to his small clothes, he rested his head in his hands and deeply exhaled. He shook his head, and then looked over his shoulder.

“What are you doing here, Arya,” his voice was soft, but trouble. “As in in my room.”

“I miss you,” she said honestly.

Bitterly, he laughed. For the first time, Gendry felt foreign to Arya. Him being a Lord and running a holdfast didn’t feel foreign, but his palpable and impermeable anger was an enemy she couldn’t seem to defeat. She wasn’t able to find its weak points nor did it show it’s hand.

“Funny,” he remarked sardonically as he then looked over his shoulder. “You didn’t miss me when left without saying goodbye. You didn’t miss me when yo returned to Winterfell. And you sure as hell didn’t miss me when you avoided me. But, you miss me in my bedchamber as I undress.

“Arya…I’m not sure what you want and I’m not sure if I want to know.” Gendry’s voice was rough, but he wasn’t angry; he was afraid and confused.

“I want…I want.” Arya rang her hands as she looked at the floor. “I want peace. I want my mother back. I want my father back. I want my brothers back and for Bran to not be whoever or whatever he is now. I want for there never to have ever been anything such as Wight Walkers and the Night King. I want my life before your came to Winterfell and ruined my family’s lives.”

Pained and helpless, Gendry looked at her. “I’m sorry, I know…if I—if I could give your life back, I would,” he said sincerely.

“No one can give me that back.” Arya wiped her face and nose.

Gendry swung his legs onto the bed and gestured for Arya to lie beside him.

After Arya snuggled under the covers with him, she said, “I’m sorry too.”

 

“You disappeared last night,” Jon noted.

Arya smiled to herself before she looked at Jon. “I disappear a lot; it’s what I’m known for.”

Jon cracked a small smile at her before he turned serious again. “Yes, it’s well documented throughout the Seven Kingdoms. But, it just so happened after a certain Lord left. I sent for you, but you weren’t in your room.”

Although Arya knew what he was hinting at, she was going to make him say it, especially when he was just another sentence away from flat out asking her if she slept with Gendry.

“No, I wasn’t,” she confirmed. “Was there anything you needed?”

Groaning, Jon stopped. “Arya?”

“Yes, brother?” Wide eyed and alert, Arya feigned innocent.

Exasperated, Jon said, “You’re really going to make me ask aren’t you?”

Arya considered his remark. With complete seriousness, she looked at him and said, “Yes.”

“Did you…did you lie with him as husband and wife do—again?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Arya looked at her brother, and then looked ahead. It was beautiful outside. They’d been walking along the river when Jon brought up her disappearance the night before.

“No.” Feeling unusually honest and straightforward, she said, “But, I wanted to.”

Jon didn’t look surprised or upset by this information, but he wasn’t welcoming of it either. “My men are loyal,” Jon pointed out. “But, try to be careful of the…time you spend with Gendry. People talk.”

“Let them,” she said, unashamed.

“Arya, I know you aren’t scared of anyone or anything, but we both know that the talking that goes on here has never done anyone any good.” Jon clenched his jaw at the statement. “Dany is trying to break the wheel piece by piece, but politics are politics and talking takes on a life of its own. I don’t know what would become of it or if I could control it if people were to find out about the two of you,” he honestly admitted. “For you or for him.”

So, his concern wasn’t just about her.

It felt oddly touching.

Jon knew about her previous sexual relationship with Gendry and he was still compelled to look out for the other man. Every since he accepted that she’s changed, Jon had tried to be more supportive of Arya and her decisions, especially since she was unlike any other woman he’d ever known. Due to her killing the Night King, she put the fear of the Old Gods and New into men. But, with Jon, he accepted that she wasn’t a little girl anymore nor would she ever be a proper lady. He knew he couldn’t control her nor could he make or a betroth for her.

But, with Gendry, he understood what it was like to be a bastard and trying to become more than what society thought you were. Despite the Stormlands wholeheartedly accepted him, other kingdoms still wondered if Gendry acquired his father’s love for drinking and whoring.

Things did take a life of their own at the capital and it was almost never for the better.

Fortunately, no one outside of Jon was none the wiser about her night visit with Gendry and her subsequent visits with him. Besides, their wasn’t anything to be wiser about, at least, not in the way Jon feared.

Although she visited Gendry’s bedchamber at time and shared him bed, they didn’t lie together the way husband and wife did like they did hours before he battle.

Arya wanted it and she suspected that Gendry knew this, but as he promised that night inches bedchamber, he hadn’t fucked her.

Unfortunately for Arya.

Annoyed, Arya brought the topic up with him as they laid beside each other. His room was covered in darkness. “Gendry, t’s not like I’m a maiden,” she stated the obvious. “Are you afraid of a child quickening in my belly? I can have maesters could make some moon tea without anyone finding out or—“

“Arya…”

“Even if your seed does take root,” she interrupted his interruption. “I don’t care about having a bastard. You know I don’t care about names or titles.”

“But, I care,” he harshly whispered. “I am not my father, Arya.”

“I didn’t say you were,” she defensively responded.

“You don’t get it—you can’t.” Gendry turned his back towards her and shrugged off Arya’s touch as she reached for him.

“Gendry…”

“Leave it alone, Arya. Please.”

Let it alone or leave him alone?

 

“Did you and Gendry fight?” Jon said as Arya finished training. “He seems mad and you’re…preoccupied.”

“No.” Arya frowned at her answer, and then revised it. “We had a disagreement. He’s…he’s upset at me because I told him I don’t care about having a bastard.”

Jon looked at if he’d been slapped.

“You said what?”

“What’s the big deal, Jon?” Arya glared at her brother. “I don’t care what fucking King’s Landing or the rest of Westeros thinks.”

“Well, you should care,” Jon said angrily. Shocked, Arya stared at her brother. “You don’t get it, Arya. It’s admirable that you don’t care, but other people do and that’s what matters. I’ll always love you and be grateful that you loved me despite everyone believing I was a bastard, but Arya, you never had to live as one. You may have seen things, but you don’t know how—how difficult it was being raised as one.

“Having a name MEANS something whether you understand that or not. Gendry is good at ruling, but he doesn’t care about that, he cares about having a name. He cares about having control of his life as a man and being respected. Or being seen as less than or evil because of the decisions his parents made. Your compassion and ability to love is endless, sister, but your understanding on this matter is limited. Depending on the situation, even being a bastard in the best of situations isn’t a great situation. Gendry doesn’t want to subject a child with the life he had or anything resembling it.”

Arya swallowed.

Back then, she’d understood why he was happy about being legitimized, but Arya never thought about it that deeply. She didn’t comprehend the complexities of being a bastard.

His men rode out of a Thursday.

Before he did, in the early hours of the morning, Gendry kissed her like a starving man—like a man dying of thirst and she was his salvation. He kissed her with everything she had.

Arya expected another proposal.

Instead, he said, “I love you, Arya Stark of Winterfell. I hope…I hope you find out what you want. And I hope you get it.”

It wasn’t a plea to go with him.

It was a goodbye.

Gendry rode off as if he hadn’t irrevocably changed her life again.

He left again.

She wasn’t herself for weeks.

Arya dreamed of Nymeria and wolves, her father and childhood wishes, and her journey to avenge the members of her family who had fallen. She dreamed of the boy who protected her when he thought she was a boy, and then even more fiercely when he found out she was a girl.

As if Gendry was next to her, she heard his voice as clear as day ask, once again, “What do you want?”

This time, Arya had an answer, “I want a wolf pack.”


	3. The Other Lord of Storm's End

Maybe the Gods, the Old and the New, were on her side.

After Arya went on the run from King’s Landing, most of her life was lived by faith; she had goals with no action plan.

When she chose her family over killing Cersei—both times—it was faith and not a concrete idea that drove her.

Even now, on her way to Storm End’s, all she had was herself and a desire to form a wolf pack with Gendry. Arya wasn’t sure what that meant, but she wanted to be with him. Deep down, despite the vagueness of her desire, she knew that was enough for Gendry. Maybe not at first, he was still angry, but it would be eventually.

But, was that fair?

A day or two away from Storm’s End, Arya heard that Gendry’s Master at Arms was severely injured in a horseback riding accident. Arya felt bad for him misfortune, but she knew an opportunity when she saw one.

 

When Gendry first saw her, his shock was apparent. He gathered his bearings, and then apologized for his rudeness and welcomed her into his home. Despite his confusion at her appearance, he made no assumptions about them and made no moves towards clarification.

She slept alone that night.

The following day, the rode horseback alongside a river.

Arya and Gendry gave the horses a break as they unmounted, and then gently rubbed them.

“I heard about the accident,” Arya carefully said. At Gendry’s confused look, she elaborated. “About your Master at Arms.”

His eyes widened and he nodded and recognition. “It really was unfortunate. The Maesters don’t know how long it’ll take him to heal and if he’ll be able to return.”

“I can fill in as long as you need me.” At this, Gendry looked at Arya suspiciously.

Carefully choosing his words, Gendry said, “Arya, I appreciate the offer, but I wouldn’t want to impose. It could be months before Ser Garland Alyn recovers and even more months before we find the appropriate replacement if need be. I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You didn’t,” she countered. “I offered. I can stay as long as you need me.”

“And why would you do that? The world needs you more than some bastard turned Lord.” His eyes were deep, assessing, and curious. Gendry widened his eyes as if something unsettled him. “But, who am I to tell Arya Stark no? A warrior. The Night Kingslayer. The She-Wolf of the North.”

Gendry introduced her to his men and left Arya to her own devices.

Arya had a feeling if she had been anyone else—any other woman— his men, both within his army and under his rule, would’ve fought the issue tooth and nail. But, how could the say that they Night King Slayer wasn’t worthy to be a Master at Arms? 

Who would dare say it?

But, some men definitely challenged her. Arya wasn’t sure if it was their ego, disbelief, or if they had a death wish. For fun, they asked if she wanted to spar, but things almost always immediately turned serious when their practice hits could never land. Their swords were longer and their swings were harder, but she was quicker and smarter and left untouched by the end.

Before their frustration and resentment could evolve into hate and dissent, Gendry intervened. 

Despite lying in his bed and exchanged kisses in the darkness of night with him while they were in King’s Landing, Arya was never sure where she stood with Gendry. If he’d forgiven her—if he wanted her still. But, without verbally telling his men to accept her, he made them respect his skill.

They both knew he wouldn’t win the sparring, but his showing wasn’t about that. 

Since the last time they sparred, Gendry had gotten better. He positioned himself better to be a smaller target, his attacks were more thought out, and the felt the stings of his blows as she parried him. Arya’s ability was never in strength, but rather agility, understanding her opponents method of attacks, and her versatile skillset beyond longsword fighting. 

If all things were equal, Arya couldn’t take Gendry or most men in a longsword fight. She knew and understood this. Not only did she not have the training, she didn’t have the strength. Her major advantage over most of her opponents is she understood how longsword fighting worked and her other fighting skills outweighed their discipline in one type of fighting.

But, Arya knew better than to fight any man in an equal setting that put her at a disadvantage.

Gendry did too.

Round after round, Arya ducked, dodged, and only lost her sword once, but Gendry never won a round.

But, he’d proven his point: Arya wasn’t the strongest fighter in Westeros, but she was the most lethal fighter.

Arya believed what really swayed Gendry’s men wasn’t Arya constantly landing blows and disarming him, but rather, that he’d made an example of himself. They’d known that Arya was a dangerous fighter, but their leader was willing to put his pride aside and not only fight her, but lose to her as well.

The men laughed at their stupidity.

“If those fools saw you fight the Wight Walkers, they wouldn’t be able to look at you without trembling,” Ser Davos remarked.

Arya smiled. “Do you tremble when you look at me?”

“Yep, I’ve just gotten better at hiding it.” Although he smiled at her, Arya knew he was serious.

 

Gendry had called for a Septa. “Ser Davos, do you know what this says?”

The older man looked at the parchment, and then stuttered over the word before staring at Gendry in befuddlement. 

“Here, let me see it.” Arya took the parchment from Ser Davos and turned her head towards Gendry. “Do you mind?”

“No.” Intently, Gendry looked at her.

Arya read the letter out loud, and then explained what the word meant. She knew that Gendry and Ser Davos both hailed from Flea Bottom where reading and writing weren’t any use to them then. She also knew that Gendry had been taking lessons in both subjects. What she’d learned by the time she was 10, neither men knew by the time they reached adulthood. Davos informed her that he Stannis’ daughter, Shireen, had given him some lessons before her untimely passing.

It was obvious to Arya that her death still troubled him, which made her feel for the older man.

Early in the morning, shortly after they had breakfast, Arya held private reading and writing lessons with the Lord of Storm’s End and his trusted advisor.

 

One day, Gendry began voicing his thoughts to her about running Storm’s End. It was expected that he felt overwhelmed and was trying to feel his way through being a lord, but he wanted to become better, sooner.

“I wasn’t raised for this like other Lords, but they’re me and I don’t want to fail them.” Gendry huffed as he paced back and forth.

“No one is a good Lord overnight, mi’lord,” Arya teased. “Add an extra chair to your table during feasts. Each night, invite a new Bannerman up to the table and listen to them. Get to know them and have them get to know you. When you understand where a person’s problem is coming from, you’ll have a better understanding of how to deal with it. That’s what my father did and he was a great Lord.”

Gendry softened at her words. “Thank you, Arya. Now, I just have to figure out how to resolve this other problem.”

“Well, that’s simple enough,” Arya began as she then advised him on how to tackle his current dilemma.

 

Although Arya didn’t displace Ser Davos, almost as if it was overnight, she became the person Gendry ran his ideas by. He clearly valued her advice and Arya saw that Ser Davos didn’t begrudge her of her increased importance in Gendry’s circle. Both of the men knew that Arya had a better idea of how these things worked—she had an intimate knowledge that they did not. But, Arya also valued Ser Davos’ input as well. He saw the things she did not and the two of them helped Gendry problem solve together. 

But, Gendry wasn’t heavily reliant on them. He was inapt or useless; he was inexperienced. 

 

Gendry grabbed Arya in the dark of a darkened hallway. 

“Why did you really come back?” He voice was soft, but demanding. Before Arya could answer, he kissed her.

 

“Is it true what they say,” the lady asked.

The man cleared his throat. “Is what true?”

“That Lord Baratheon only inherited his father’s looks and not his drinking and whoring?” 

The man heartily laughed. “I don’t think Lord Baratheon has touched a whore a day in his life. On a good night, he’ll have a mug of ale, but he’s rarely in his cups.”

“Guess it isn’t heredity,” she chuckled. “I wonder…does he has unusual proclivities like his uncle.”

“Not that I’ve seen or heard,” he denied.”Why?”

“Just curious.”

“You askin’ a lot of questions for someone who’s just curious,” the man pointed out.

“Fair point,” she admitted. “Lord Baratheon has been legitimized for what? Three years,” the Lady said factually. “He hasn’t expressed any interest in being betrothed, but there also aren’t any rumors of him being laying with women or fathering any bastards. He’s seen as king, just, and upstanding. I wanted to hear for myself from his men if it was true or not.”

“Why? You want to fuck him?” The lady scoffed in disgust.

“No, I want to unite our houses,” she revealed. “Granted, most ladies would like to marry Lord Baratheon, but they’re all girls playing at a woman’s game. When they look at Lord Baratheon, all they see is a handsome man, I see a great house. I just wanted to make sure he won’t embarrass me or my house like his father did Cersei and the Lannisters.”

The man sniggered. “I don’t think the Lady of Storm’s End would like that.”

“You said that they weren’t any other women,” she said, indignant.

“No, I said he wasn’t whoring around, my lady.” The lady grumbled at the semantics. “Ever since Lord Baratheon claimed Storm’s End, I’ve never seen or heard about him with any woman. He was just focused on running the place. But, then the She-Wolf, Arya Stark, just showed up one day—she’d fought with him during the war, but it seems they knew each other before then. And he allowed her to stay. She became the Master at Arms the next day.

“They weren’t involved right away, but people whisper and people talk. She spends some nights in his bedchambers and the noises that comes from there is unmistakable. Everyone knows the Baratheon seed is strong, but the maesters are tight lipped—“

“You believe she’s drinking moon tea?” The woman was scandalized.

He snorted. “How else would you explain it? She kept Lord Baratheon’s bed warm on many nights, but hasn’t missed her moon blood.” 

“So, he is a man of desire,” the lady remarked. “I won’t begrudge him an indulgence, but he needs a lady and not a She-Wolf.”

“Arya Stark is a lady,” he pointed out.

Lord Baratheon needs a proper lady,” she said triumphantly. “Arya Stark has never been one and will never be.”

“Maybe,” he speculated. “But, she has her teeth in him deep and I doubt he wants her to loosen her grip.”

Storm’s End may have not been King’s Landing, but Arya wondered how long their well known secret could be contained. 

Old habits were hard to break and Arya often found herself sneaking around and eavesdropping on various conversations in Storm’s End. When Gendry decided to throw a feast and invite various houses, Arya had kept a special eye out for women who had their eye on Gendry.

Arya wasn’t worried about Lady Marmarc, she was worried about Gendry’s reputation.

 

Arya moaned into Gendry’s mouth.

His fingertips dug into her hips as he thrust upwards. Her legs tightened around his hip as she pulled him closer.

Gendry’s lips trailed down Arya’s jaw to her throat, and then her collarbone as he suckled on it.

“Fucking hells, Arya,” he gasped. “I love you so much.”

Rolling her hips and taking him deeper, the two groaned together. “I love y—I love you too, Gendry.”

 

“Gendry…Lady Marmarc knows about us.” They were a tangled mess of arms and legs as Gendry sucked on her neck.

The lord stopped what he was doing and lifted his head. His eyes were warm and open. Earnestly, he said, “I don’t care if you don’t care.”

Gendry continued sucking on Arya’s neck as if he didn’t hear what she just said.

She did care, but not about that.

 

Jon arrived on a Tuesday.

“Dany sends her love,” Jon informed her. Dany was six moons along with their second child.

Arya smiled to herself. Although they weren’t particularly close due to, well…everything. Dany had no ill will for her and the younger woman knew that the queen’s remarks were genuine. 

“Gendry has done a remarkable job with Storm’s End considering his background.” Jon held his hands behind his back as he looked straight ahead. A smile crept on his face before he glanced at Arya. “I heard that he has you to thank in part for that.”

Biting back a smile, Arya turned her head. “I only told him things I learned from dad.”

“Only?” Jon raised an eyebrow. “I hear you do more than that.”

People noticed a change in how Gendry rule and his understanding of the inner workings of governing when Arya began living at Storm’s End. It didn’t take the much to conclude that she was the guiding force before his new ruling style. His ruling style hadn’t changed much, it was merely modified according to the customs and expectations of the land.

“The money is being handled better, despite them already liking Gendry, he’s developing better and tighter relationships with his men and constituents, and the grievances are being handled thoughtful and timely. I know Gendry is a smart man, but I also know the influence of my little sister when I hear it.” Proudly, Jon smiled at his little sister.

Seriously, Arya exaggeratedly said, “He was so lost, Jon.”

They laughed together at the well meaning, but sometimes misguided Gendry.

“He wasn’t born to rule, but he’s good at it.” Arya said to herself more than Jon. “Coming from Flea Bottom, Gendry knows what it’s like to be under a bad ruler and suffer as a result of it. Even though he doesn’t care for this,” Arya gesture to the castle and land. “The well being of the small folk is important to him.”

Keenly, Jon looked at her. “As are you.”

Raising an eyebrow, Arya turned over his words in her head. Jon wasn’t one for politics, but he was more careful about his words and what he said now as king.

“I take it that whispers have reached King’s Landing,” Arya asserted.

“As of now, all they are are whispered,” Jon confirmed. “I must say, I expected to hear word of a betroth by now and not whisperings that the Night King Slayer is keeping Lord Baratheon’s bed warm. Despite you two fighting at the Battle of Winterfell, no one can seem to connect how or when you two met. I must say, I’ve heard some fantastic tales about that.”

Arya smiled. “I bet you have.”

“So, what are you two doing? Why are you here?” Expectantly, Jon looked at Arya.

Biting her lip, Arya shook her head ever so slight. “I love him, Jon. I love Gendry so much that it scares me more than the Night King ever did. I thought if I came back, he’d propose again and…”

Jon grabbed Arya’s arm and made her stop with him. “He hasn’t asked you to marry him again?”

“No…he can’t—he can’t. Not until I tell him what I want.” 

Baffled, Jon ran a hand through his hair.

“I thought you were here because you knew what you wanted—isn’t that why you’ve been at Storm’s End for over a year?”

“I want Gendry,” Arya definitively stated. “But, I’ve never been a lady—I don’t know how to be one. And I—I—I can’t take this from him.”

“Arya, you are literally one of the smartest women—no smartest people I know—and you’re—you’re preventing yourself marrying a guy you love, a guy who has made you the happiest you’ve ever been since before dad went down to King’s Landing, all because you don’t think you know how to be a lady.

“I know you aren’t a typical lady, Arya, but you were born one. Ser Brienne of Tarth is a lady, despite being a knight; Lady Lyanna and her mother ruled the Bear Islands before their unfortunate deaths; and Daenerys is a queen, but she isn’t a traditional queen. Hell, you’re a Master at Arms and advisor of a Lord—I’ve heard whispers of you being called the Other Lord of Storm’s End. Marrying Gendry doesn’t mean you have to give up who you are, especially when that’s who he fell in love with. You’re the She-Wolf of the North and the Night King Slayer,” Jon smiled. “No one expects you to needle and watch your husband rule.”

Arya abruptly hugged her brother. “Thank you, Jon.”

Jon pulled her in tighter. “Omph…I forgot how strong and quick you are.”

Arya laughed.

 

Rocking her hips, Arya grinned at Gendry’s moans below her. Gendry pulled her closer and Arya practically rolled her eyes at how deep he was. She rested her hands on his chest as she gyrated her hips.

He groaned loudly. “Fuck. Arya…”

Arya leaned over and kissed Gendry on the forehead, then his ear and she made her way up his jawline. When she reached his lips, she kissed him deeply.

“I want you.” Gendry’s eyes widened at Arya’s announcement. She kissed him again. “I want us. I want this. Not just being your wife or just your advisor, but the other lord. I want to make decisions that effect not just our home, but all of the stormlands, so ask me again.”

Gendry grabbed Arya’s face and kissed her with every bone he had in his body. “Marry me?” He kissed her again and again and again, so much so, Arya was unable to speak.

Loudly, Arya chuckled. “Will you let me answer?”

Grinning like a fool, Gendry smiled. “Okay.”

Feeling like the girl she hadn’t been in years, the girl who ogled Gendry at Harrenhal, the girl who fell in love with the boy before she even understood what love was, Arya blushed and replied, “Yes.”

Gendry flipped them over, so that Arya was on her back. His hands rested on both sides of her head as he slowly thrust into her. He lowered his head so that his forehead could rest against hers.

“I’m one hell one a lucky bastard.” Arya moaned in his ear.

She would wait a few months, but Arya didn’t mind a babe quickening in her belly.

 

In front of the Old Gods and New, Arya and Gendry got married. In attendance was, Jon, Dany, Sansa, not-Bran, Ser Brienne of Tarth, Podrick, Tormund, and Hot Pie. They held a second ceremony for the storm lands because they understood their union was much bigger than them. All of the houses from the storm lands came as well as all of the houses from the North. Arya saw houses from the other five of the seven kingdoms too.

Gendry and Arya were introduced as Lady and Lord of Storm’s End.

And, no, she wasn’t the other Lord of Storm’s End, she was more than that.

Arya was the Lady of Storm's End.


End file.
